


Excuses

by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, POV Second Person, Pining, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leoporidae_Lagomorpha/pseuds/Leoporidae_Lagomorpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you bury pity in regret and watch the rum drip down his chin, wishing you could wipe away the sin. All you want is everything from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this was "Shanks and Mihawk are drinking buddies. (Semi reluctant/dragged along on Mihawks' part) Mihawk has had a crush on Shanks for quite some time. Shanks is oblivious."

It doesn't take you long to find him, it never has. There's some fresh faces in his crew, idiots who splutter and panic at the sight of your approaching raft, shocked to see a Warlord seeking out one of the New World's Four Emperors. However unusual it may be, this is a habit lifetimes old, back from before you had your title, before your amnesty, a habit that belongs to another man, a younger more foolish man.

Ah, speaking of fools, red hair seems as careless as ever. Poorly guarded and camped out in the open, he's never thought much in terms of self-preservation. You look down at his tousled hair and achingly familiar scars.

"Yo, Hawkeyes. Long time no see." He looks grim, light words coming out heavy like lead, probably hungover. "I'm not feeling to good right now." Definitely hungover. "You come for a match?"

"I have no interest in challenging," you pause searching for the right words, "a one-armed man like yourself," You finish lamely. He's stupid to still ask as if it hasn't changed a thing. You can't help but shake your head, dislodging an old memory from the back of your brain.

\----

That very first time, when you drew your blade to strike him and he'd fumbled, the one you'd thought to be a worthy rival, had clumsily gripped his sword to intercept your blow. You hadn't held back, hadn't felt the need to, not for him, never for him.

You've loved him for much longer than you'd care to admit, loved him for his skill and his scars and his smile. You measure the world in strength, his was dangerous and utterly enticing. You've dreamed of letting him run his hands on your skin, of worshipping every sword worn callous and every mark, every proof of his beating heart. He's a pirate through and through, barged into your world, caught your attention and stole your soul away. You'd defend your title of greatest to the grave, but some days, some days, you wanted this redheaded fool to take it away.

The force of your hit knocked the coat from his shoulders and revealed the bandaged stump of his left arm. You froze, blades crossed and eyes locked on where the limb used to be. The loss came like a punch to your pride. The scream of disbelief, the incomprehension, because how did this happen. How could this have happened isn't your first thought, your first thought is selfish, the first thing that occupies your mind is:

_How could he do this to you?_

He'd chuckled, eyes crinkling and mouth pulling into a sheepish grin.

"Ha, guess you've caught me unarmed."

You want to throttle him.

\----

"However," swiftly bringing up the excuse for your unannounced visit, "I came across some interesting pirates." You reach for the piece of paper stashed away in one of the inside pockets of your coat."And it reminded of something you told me a long time ago." There you go bringing up the past again, it's like you can't get enough of him, as if replaying your past encounters will ever change a thing. "About a small village and an amusing little kid."

The collective gasp of surprise at the beaming face and name that adorned the wanted poster: _Monkey D. Luffy._

 "Luffy?" And he can barely suppress his smile.

"Well then, Hawkeyes." He's wearing what could be called an almost demonic expression. "I can't just let you go like that."

 

That's how you find yourself being dragged by the shoulders and seated by his side. He shoves a tankard in your hand.

"So come on, drink!" And he breaks out in a a boisterous laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth. He takes a swig of rum from a bottle by his feet. You chug your drink, let the alcohol burn down your throat and curl bitter in your gut. You've done this too many times, let him sling an arm around your shoulders and laugh drunkenly into your neck. Ignorant of how it sets nerves alight. It's pitiful on your part, pathetic, something you detest. So you bury pity in regret and watch the rum drip down his chin, wishing you could wipe away the sin. All you want is everything from him. You wonder what you ever did in life to come to love this man. This captain, this pirate, this wayward son of a gun, with scars and a good sword arm. It's ridiculous really. Silly, strange and sentimental. You should stop. Stop teasing yourself with glimpses of what could be. You don't and you probably won't. Can't seem to let go of the amiable companionship and cheap beer. So you let yourself drink and let yourself regret it when the afternoon sun sets and he slips against your side. He's heavy and cumbersome but you let him stay, heat radiating from where his unconscious body spills over your own and you let yourself enjoy it for once.

You start thinking of your next excuse to see him.

**Author's Note:**

> smells like repressed emotions


End file.
